


Songbirds

by A_Darker_Magic



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassination Attempt(s), Assassination Plot(s), Consensual Non-Consent, Dark Claude, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Political Intrigue, Politics, Power Couple, Power Dynamics, Setting - Almyra, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23640943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Darker_Magic/pseuds/A_Darker_Magic
Summary: He learned his lessons. He knew when to wield a blade or sheathe it in favor of a smile.She was told to run the night her hair changed color. She had not planned to stop.He could not read her, so he offered her both blade and smile. She took both, and he made her his shield.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 18
Kudos: 93





	1. The First Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on a darker Claude. I thought it would be fun to explore, and I would love to hear what you guys think of him.
> 
> Some chapters will deal with some darker themes, but I will include warnings in the notes as a heads up.

There was pain.

It created a foggy haze through which it was impossible to make out much else. When he managed to open his eyes there were flashes of light, splayed out in the pattern of a crescent moon. 

He had no idea what it meant, no idea if it was a sign of good fortune or some ill omen hanging over his head. But those sparks fascinated him. He reached through the haze, like some babe grasping at a toy, trying to bring them back into himself. Somehow he knew those sparks came from him, and he wanted them back.

He had no idea how long he lingered in that space between life and death, no idea how many times those sparks formed the halo above his head, but with a blink of his eyes it all seemed to fade away. He was in darkness, and then there was sunlight filtering in from the windows. 

His body ached as he sat up, arms weak and unable to hold his weight, so he plopped back down onto the plush pillows behind him. There were songbirds in the window, the smell of citrus trees in the air. It was a normal day, the world having continued on without a care while he was unaware. 

Cool hands clasped him, pulling him into a disorienting embrace. Jasmine and sea salt. His mother’s scent. The woman who never flinched sobbed as she held her son, clinging onto him as if he could still slip through her fingers.

“They failed,” she whispered, rocking him as she held him tighter. “They failed. They will not take you from me.”

She woke him the next day, prim and proper, grim faced as usual. “Come, my son. It is time I gave you the weapons with which to fight back against those who would hurt you.”

He liked to think that was the day his childhood ended. If he were truthful, four words that always brought a grim grin to his lips, he never had one. No child of the Almyran King was afforded such a luxury. They were weapons in the silent war beneath the gilded pleasure, and his mother had ensured he was killing sharp. 

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

Khalid’s first lesson was in smiles. 

There was more to that simple gesture than letting the tilt of one’s lips raise. A sword would win him fear, but a smile, that could open up an entire book of secrets for him.

He learned to smile sweetly, all doe eyed and innocent, so bright it was as if the sun itself had come to rest on his face. He charmed the kitchen maids with it, allowed to hide among them and listen to their gossip as they snuck him snacks. He learned that Bahadur was having an affair with Navid, and that Rahim had a serious gambling problem, and the Nader would give his illegitimate daughter the world if he could. He learned it all while stuffing his face with sweet bread and the maids gave his head gentle pats.

His pockets would bulge under the weight of the treats he took with him when he went on his way through secret passages within his father’s palace, long ago forgotten by everyone besides the servants who used them to go unseen about their duties. 

The seneschal would catch him sometimes. Khalid never did try to hide himself here, it drew more attention to himself rather than distracting. He would face down the disappointed gaze, staring down at his shuffling feet. The seneschal would huff and puff about the impropriety of such a thing. “A prince in the middle of the servants’ quarters! Bah!” But he would heave a heavy sigh. Khalid would lift his head, his smile small and hopeful, offering it up along with the seneschal’s favorite dessert,  _ koloocheh  _ stuffed with cinnamon and walnuts. It was the smile that sealed the deal. The older man would never have allowed himself to be so cheaply bought otherwise. But the seneschal had seen too many childhoods ended too early, and Kahlid’s small smile, so tentative and nervous, making him seem as young as he truly was, tugged at the old man’s heartstrings.

Then it was onto the hidden places where orphaned servant children, too young to be entrusted with their full duties yet, spent their days. He shared  _ ranginak  _ with the boys who would one day do more than muck out the wyvern stables. They snuck him into the stalls of the massive war beasts, familiarizing Khalid with how best to approach each of them. He laughed into his arm, covering the noise, when his father’s huge white beast licked the side of his face, causing his hair to stand on end. He had seen her literally eat a man before, but he earned himself a soft spot in that grumpy lady’s heart.

_ Bamieh  _ went to the sweet girl who spent her days in the gardens, rose water mixing with the sap on her fingers as she responded to his understanding smiles. He would nod and offer sympathy as she spoke of her poor dead mother, unable to even remember her face. And when she was done, she would point to different flowers, teaching Khalid their names and uses. 

His favorite was the tiny girl, more mouse than anything else, who was forever covered in soot and coal. She wobbled as she carried around her heavy pail full of cleaning supplies, spending her mornings using her small hands to scrub royal fireplaces. She never spoke to Khalid, but his gentle smile drew her in. It took a few weeks, like a dog who had been kicked one too many times and was scared to trust again, before she would take the piece of  _ gaz  _ from his hand. Khalid ate the pistachio filled treat with a reassuring smile, letting it grow wider as the girl took her first tentative bite. Her eyes lit up and she shoved the rest of the treat in her mouth, scampering away embarrassed as soon as it disappeared. 

But she came back, eventually staying long enough to sit down next to Khalid and tucking themselves away against some out of the way corner, taking a few minutes to simply be. She still did not speak, but there was something comforting in her presence. Even on the day when he dropped the  _ gaz  _ in his haste and had nothing to offer her, she still sat beside him, Khalid’s smile tugging wider than he meant to let it go.

She was the one to bring him his first clue. When Khalid pressed the treat into her hand, she returned to him a scrap of cloth, charcoal marks outlining the damning implication drawn across its surface. She trembled in fear, nibbling at the  _ gaz  _ as if savouring a last meal. He ruffled her hair, rewarding her with a kind smile that had her uncurling from herself, daring to lean against Khalid’s side.

He learned on cool evenings when his father joined them in his mother’s private garden, how to mimic the turn of her lips and the way her skin crinkled around the emerald eyes he had inherited. His father, most feared in a land of warlords, would soften just so and pull Khalid into his lap. Most nights Khalid was permitted to stay for the length of time it took Darius to drink a cup of tea before being shuffled off, his parents forgetting the rest of the world existed besides themselves. On rare occasions, however, Darius would barely touch his cup, engrossed in pointing out constellations and reciting the myths associated with them. Darius’ embellishments would be interrupted by Tiana’s clicking tongue, her musical voice hindering Darius when he went completely off course. “If you ever lost your crown you could make a decent living as a street performer, my love.” Tiana would quip, Darius answering her teasing smile. 

In those moments of peace, smiles were a commodity easy to come by.

When Darius’ visits became less frequent, Khalid would offer his own smiles to his mother, wishing to see hers once more. They were given easily, but it was as if a porcelain mask settled over Tiana’s face. It was a lesson she did not mean to teach, of how important the eyes were to a smile. One could tug their lips into position, but a smile fell apart if it was not reflected in the eyes.

He figured out the last use of a smile himself. When his elder brother lay upon his sheets, tossing and turning, screaming as sweat drenched his body, Khalid leaned over him and smiled, flashing teeth like a desert jackal who had cornered its prey. His brother’s eyes grew wide, body trembling with more than the toxins coursing through him. The foul odors of piss and shit struck the air, his brother rolling in his own filth as he tried to escape Khalid. When he screamed of demons, the women of his father’s house cooed at Khalid about what a good sibling he was, staying at his brother’s side despite Kir never showing Khalid any sort of kindness. 

The smile was gone by then, that cruel wicked edge hidden away for when Khalid once more found himself in need of a weapon, replaced by a trembling lip. They whispered about his soft heart as Kir’s fever rose higher and higher.

Khalid waited to see the sparks, the crescent moon that would draw his brother back from the edge of death, but they never came. It seemed those blessings were for Khalid alone.

His grandmother broke her isolation when news spread that Kir had taken his last breath, coming to see the body before it grew cold. Khalid offered her a bow and a wavering smile in greeting, but she had played the games of the court for too long. She saw right through him. The dowager queen scrutinized him through narrowed eyes, the long wrinkles of her face making Khalid wonder how she saw anything at all. Her grip tightened on her cane and she turned, saying not a word to anyone. 

It was the first time his smile had ever failed him. And that was perhaps his most important lesson.

Failure was always a possibility. Well, he supposed that was why contingency plans were so important.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Khalid runs into a mysterious woman while out on a mission in the middle of the desert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support on the prologue! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much!
> 
> Also, thank you to Anam and Mitz for your feedback on this chapter. You guys are so wonderful!

His next lesson was in weapons.

All Almyran children were expected to train in the art of the bow. Khalid took to it naturally. There was something so similar between looking down the length of an arrow to pick out a target and spotting a glare across the courtroom. It was figuring out who was a threat and dealing with them appropriately. 

His skill made his father proud, those booming praises drawing the ire of his other wives who wished them to fall upon their own children. Khalid wondered if his father had grown too comfortable in his position, growing fat off the fear his name still inspired, to realize the target he was painting on his son’s back. It seemed to be the opinion his mother held, but Khalid had another theory. 

Darius had wrestled his throne from his father, had fought off siblings and opportunists for the privilege. He had held his prize for almost twenty years now. Almyran did not stand weakness, either in mind or body. It would swallow a person whole and drag their name through the mud of history. Darius, obsessed with legacy, would not allow that. Khalid was his hope for his name to continue on after his time had come, and to ensure his favored son had all the tools he needed, Darius invited the unrest to test Khalid.

The Almyran royal court was a hungry creature, and Khalid felt the fangs of its maw closing in around him.

Swords came next. He did not take to them with the same talent he did the bow, finding those brutal swings a less than appealing solution. That was until Nader handed him an axe, and Khalid found all the useful tricks he could he play with that curved blade. His favorite was to hook the blade of the axe against whatever weapon his opponent used, coming in close with a swift punch to the gut to knock the wind out of them. Their grip would loosen on their weapon, and when Khalid pulled back, he would take their blade with him as well. He kept a dagger by his side, always useful for if a disemboweling was called for instead of a friendly punch.

These were the tools of his childhood, the ones he carried with him as his braid grew longer and his beard grew in across his cheeks. They were the tools he had when his father assigned him to lead the twenty man reconnaissance mission, strapped securely to his back and sides as he and five others returned from scouting their campsite.

As they approached the edge of the oasis where they had left the rest of the party, Khalid held up a hand to stop the men behind him. There were the unmistakable sounds of metal on metal, curses and screams as lives were cut short. He could smell blood on the air, the stench of it thick and heavy in the heat. 

Khalid issued his orders with a wave of his hand, not opening his mouth in case it alerted the attackers to their presence. His fellow scouts fanned out around him, notching arrows against bows in preparation for whatever they would find.

What they found was not what Khalid would have expected in his wildest dreams. They rose over the small dune to see the majority of his party lying dead upon the sands. In the midst of it all, he caught sight of a woman with a sword in hand. Her strange mint green locks fanned out around her face as she spun, easily sinking her blade into the stomach of the man who had attempted to come up behind her. A choked scream escaped the man’s throat as she angled her sword up, dead before she even pushed him off the blade and spun to meet the next attack.

His two remaining men flanked her, green eyes darting between them. Beside him, one of the scouts rose up and aimed, but Khalid waved him back down. He wanted to see how this ended. The two men suddenly charged the green haired woman, bellowing with rage as they prepared to strike simultaneously. The woman dropped down, rolling backwards as her attacker’s weapons met the sand. Her blade flashed up, cutting off the arm of one, before it flashed again, cutting a line across his throat. His remaining hand rose, holding the wound, but blood poured forth around it. 

She did not make a sound as the axe blade grazed across her back. Khalid watched in open fascination as the woman threw herself to the side, angling herself to avoid the second swinging blade as it attempted to bury itself within her. She moved as if she had seen the axe behind her, predicting the attack and taking the least damage she could given the circumstances. No one should have been able to move like that.

The last surviving soldier brought the heavy two headed axe back around, raising it to block the arching swing the woman tried to counter with. Her legs trembled, barely noticeable, but it was enough that when the soldier pushed back against her, his weight lending him the advantage, the woman tumbled down into the sand. 

Khalid’s eyes narrowed as he watched her movements. They were jerky and sharp, nowhere near the grace he would expect from someone using the fast flowing moves the woman seemed to favor. She couldn’t be...could she?

With the same stoic expression on her face, the woman rolled, the axe taking a chunk of her hair as it came down. The sword came up, slicing into the opening the soldier had created, and buried into his guts so quickly Khalid had not seen the actual strike itself. Blood sputtered from the soldier’s mouth as he attempted to draw in breath, a fountain of it running down his chin and neck on the exhale. His fingers flexed loosely around the shaft of his weapon. There was fury in his eyes. Khalid knew that look, knew he was trying to continue to fight even as his body refused to respond to any type of command he gave. It was exactly what Khalid would expect from a warrior hand picked by his father.

The woman shoved forward, using the weight of her own body to shove the soldier off her blade. He fell slowly, joining her on the red stained sand. The soldier’s chest stilled, stopping its laborious movement. The woman stood, that trembling in her legs more apparent, arms dropping to her side as if her sword was too heavy to carry anymore. There was a sunken look to her skin Khalid knew all too well. He had seen it multiple times when a decimated caravan staggered their way into an oasis or city, desperately begging for a drop of water to slake their thirst.

She had! This green haired war goddess had killed almost an entire squad while severely dehydrated. No wonder she had fought so desperately for access to water.

_ “If it looks like she is about to stick me with that thing, put an arrow through her arm or leg. Do not kill her,”  _ Khalid signed to the scout he had waved off before. To his credit, the man’s eyes only widened a fraction before going back to business, nodding his head to show he had understood. Khalid knew these scouts were some of the finest snipers in the world, and at this close range, such a shot would prove little challenge.

The order was passed along to the other scouts in the hurried movements of their fingers, but Khalid’s focus was reserved solely for the woman. The instant he rose, she took a fighting stance once more, but Khalid could see the toll the previous fight and the desert had taken on her. She was barely standing, and her sword was held closer to the ground than it should have been. She was leaving herself too open, a sloppy mistake, and yet Khalid’s heart hammered in his chest, craving the challenge. 

“Well, you have certainly put me in an awkward situation,” Khalid said lightly, his easy smile tugging at his lips. “How do I explain to my father that one woman killed a handful of his best soldiers all by herself?”

“Come any closer and I’ll save you the trouble,” the woman answered evenly, her voice completely neutral. 

Oh that...yep, that excited him in more ways than one. “Easy there,” he continued. He slid his axe from his belt, holding it in a relaxed grip. 

Those intense green eyes stared at him as Khalid began to circle her, making him feel as if this woman could see into his very being and judge his soul. She said nothing, continuing to face him down. Just as Khalid reached the point of having her turn her back to the dune the scouts were hiding behind, the woman lashed out, forcing him to raise his axe to block. 

Khalid was forced back, circling her in the opposite direction now. Clever, he thought to himself. There was no way she had seen the scouts, they were too well hidden for that, but she was not taking any chances that he was alone. He caught himself already forming schemes that involved her, and while he knew he was putting the cart ahead of the horse, it was becoming too tempting to resist.

“Tell me,” he continued, keeping an arm’s length out of her reach, “how did a Fódlani come to find herself so deep in Almyran territory?”

“I walked,” the woman answered after a moment.

Khalid just managed to catch himself before he stumbled. She what? “You walked?”

The woman answered with a noncommittal shrug. 

There was no expression on her face, no tell he could pick up on to detect a lie. Had she truely walked across the Throat, through the plains, and into the desert, making it to an oasis nearly on the eastern border of the country before someone caught her? Somehow Khalid did not think she was making up a tale. It was as if this woman had stepped right out of the pages of a storybook his mother would read to him as a child.

Khalid darted in, testing her with a quick strike aimed to graze across her hip. The woman easily blocked him, but he could feel the give in her blade as she fought to maintain her grip. She was reaching her limit. And if this is what she could do now, what could she do when she was fully rested and cared for?

He stopped pacing, reaching to his other side to take the waterskin from where it hung on his belt. He popped the stopper, taking a quick swig of the sweet clear water he had so recently filled it with, before replacing the top and throwing it at her. The woman let the skin hit the sand, her dry tongue instinctively licking her lips as she watched it sail past, refusing to take her eyes from her opponent. 

Stars, she was incredible.

“What’s your name?” Khalid asked, keeping up the casual conversation, so strange against the backdrop of this now gruesome place.

The woman remained quiet for a brief moment, but answered, “Byleth.”

Again no change in expression, no indication of some made up name. He would question her self preservation methods if he did not have proof of her desire to survive surrounding him. Khalid danced forward, smacking at her blade again. Byleth still managed to block, but the increase in her give was dramatically noticeable. 

He stayed within her reach this time, continuing to press against her blade. “Why come to Almyra? What is here for you?”

“Nothing,” Byleth answered, the only sign of her struggle the labored rise and fall of her ample chest. “And when we are done here, I will continue right on through until I am in some other foreign land.”

“Ah, well I don’t particularly like that idea.” Khalid let her push him away, despite the fact that he could have easily countered her. He brought the axe down, catching the blade in his signature move as he caught her sword with the hanging blade of his own weapon. He moved in for the punch to her stomach, attempting to knock the wind out of her, but Byleth surprised him by releasing her grip on her sword altogether, knocking it upward so that it tipped over his axe, and grabbed her now free blade with her other hand. Byleth attempted to slam the pommel into Khalid’s stomach, but the strike was too weak to throw him off. He had no doubt if she was at full strength he would be on the ground, with a sword through his heart a second after.

Khalid jumped back in surprise. No one had ever countered him like that before. “Okay, now that was impressive.” He dropped his voice, raising his axe once more as he darted in. Khalid caught her block, locking their blades together so that neither could move without giving the other the advantage. “I have a proposition for you,” he whispered, soft enough that it would be impossible for the scouts to hear. And with his back to them, he did not have to worry about any of them reading his lips. 

Byleth’s eyes narrowed, the first indication of any emotion, but she remained silent. 

“Work for me.”

That got a reaction out of her, her eyes widening for a split second before going hard again. It was so fast Khalid would not have noticed it if he were not staring straight into those green orbs. “Why?”

“You’re obviously skilled,” Khalid told her. “I can use that. And you, it seems as if you could use a steady supply of food and water, along with an offer of protection from whatever it is you are so obviously running from.”

“And who are you to offer such a thing?” Byleth pushed against him, but Khalid shoved right back, bringing their bodies close enough that he could feel the phantom touch of her skin.

“A prince of Almyra,” Khalid answered easily. The truth fell from his lips, feeling appropriate given the situation. He needed Byleth to keep at least one secret for him if he was to pull this off.

“Ah,” Byleth intoned. “So you do have the ability to back up your words.”

Khalid’s grin widened and he nodded. “It seems a waste to destroy something so beautiful.” Not even a blink at that.

“So you wish me to become your bodyguard?” Byleth asked, her words uttered through gritted teeth.

“In part,” Khalid admitted. “You’ll definitely be at my side most of the time, but mostly I wish for you to be underestimated.”

It took a moment, but there was a flicker of understanding in Byleth’s eyes. “Is this some ploy to get me to drop my guard?” she snapped. “I’ll surrender and you kill me? Why would you want someone who killed so many of your friends to stand at your back?”

“They weren’t my friends. They were soldiers, my father’s,” Khalid explained. “And that is precisely why. Don’t tell me you got all the way across Almyra without understanding how much we value strength.” 

There was a beat of silence between them before Khalid continued, making sure Byleth understood what he wanted from her. “Throw this fight, you know it will end poorly for you anyways if you don’t. But if you play along, make it seem as if I’ve broken your spirit, at least for now, I will make sure you never have to run again.”

Byleth was quiet, continuing to strain against the hold Khalid kept on her blade. When she relaxed, it nearly caught Khalid off guard. He twisted his axe, Byleth jerking her sword at the last moment so that they both lost their grips on their weapons. Khalid’s foot kicked the back of Byleth’s ankle, easily sweeping her to the ground. She grunted as he landed on top of her, his hands quickly pinning her own.

“If this is a trap, you’ll regret it,” Byleth warned. 

“I know I will, which is why I have zero interest in betraying you.” Khalid leaned down, bringing his face closer to Byleth’s. “The only trap I set for you will be if you betray me.”

Something Khalid could almost call acceptance eased the harshness of her face. He had just started to move her hands into place, meaning to tie them together, when Byleth slammed her head up. White hot pain laced through him, and Khalid heard an ugly crunching sound as her skull met his nose. Beneath him, Byleth gasped as his hands tightened painfully against her wrists.

Khalid blinked the stars from his eyes, staring down at the woman beneath him. There was no smile on her lips, but somehow she still looked amused.

Byleth made a motion that was probably meant to be a shrug. “Do you really think simply pinning me will convince them that you have conquered me? You’ll have to work harder than that.”

Khalid’s tongue poked out, licking the blood pouring from his nose that was slowly coating his lips. He felt a heat rush through him, blood pooling in another part of his body. Stars, he had not expected her to make this fun. 

The resulting struggle was brief, Byleth too weak to really put up much more of a fight. Her arms flailed, but Khalid’s grip on them was too strong. He cursed loudly when a knee slammed into his hip, almost knocking him loose. Byleth tried to roll free, but Khalid slammed her against the sand, moving his legs to keep her own in place while she was stunned.

“Bring me rope!” he cried out.

A scout was there a second later, tying Byleth’s hands together. Khalid himself took the second length of rope offered, binding her legs. Her struggles ceased after that, and Khalid doubted the way her body slumped with exhaustion was truly an act.

“We’ll set up camp on the other side of the oasis.” He had no desire to spend the night next to a pile of corpses that would surely attract predators. Nor would they smell very good come morning. 

With the help of the scout who had brought him the rope, Khalid picked up Byleth, curling her around the back of his neck. One hand rested on the small of her back, while the other was on her neck. Warm blood coated his hand, and Khalid was reminded of her previous injury.

“My prince,” one of the scouts addressed him. She bowed stiffly before reaching out. A soft white glow wrapped around her fingers, and Khalid felt his nose begin to knit itself back together. Thank the stars he had decided to bring the squads only assigned healer with the scouting party. 

“It’s not pretty,” she admitted when she was done, “but it’ll do.” Typical of Almyran healing techniques, to be honest.

Khalid nodded in acknowledgement of her help, beginning to follow the others of their group who were already carrying out his orders. “Once my tent is set up, I want you to see to her,” he said, jerking his head to the side to indicate a half conscious Byleth. “I don’t want her dying on me in the middle of the night.”

The scout nodded, not daring to question him, or stare at the tent he was currently making of his pants, and fell into step as they moved to catch up to the rest of the party.

This was certainly not the prize he was expecting to return home with, but Khalid was not about to question his sudden windfall....well, that was a lie. He would question, but he would certainly use Byleth to his advantage while he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you guys thought! We're going to start getting into some darker topics next chapter, but there will be warnings in place beforehand.


End file.
